


Mother of Blood

by JupiterGoddess



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24894208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterGoddess/pseuds/JupiterGoddess
Summary: Many many years before the war of the three banners, and even more years before the Dragonborn walked Skyrim again, the human tribes of the Nedic roamed parts of Tamriel. And one of them, a priestess of Arkay, suffered one of the most terrible fates one could have.This is the story of Lamae Beolfag. First vampire to ever walk Nirn. The Mother of Blood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just one, two things I wanted to say before heading into this story.  
> I am a player of Elder Scrolls Online. And another very nice player bit one of my charac-ters, turning her into a vampire, and for free no less (seriously, there are such amazing people in the ESO community; the entire community is generally pretty awesome and nice). It was thus that I learned of the story of Lamae Beolfag, Nedic priestess of Arkay and the first human transformed into a vampire. It touched me so that I had to write a fanfiction about it.  
> Originally, I intended it to be way shorter… however, as you can see, it turned out to be a three chapter story. If a story needs pages, it needs its pages. I do hope that at least I managed to capture how traumatic the event must have been for all involved. What gave me a bit difficulty was of course the fact that there is basically nothing known about the Nedic people. So, I couldn't flesh the story not out as much as I would have liked to.  
> And while I tried to capture the severity of Molag Bal's deed, especially the part in chapter 1, I also tried my best to keep back with the graphic description of it so that it is digestible. I at least hope it is. Because… it must have been just pretty damn bad. Poor Lamae, is all I say. Defiled by a monster, forsaken by her god. To be honest, I am myself not a fan if depictions of blood and especially gore get too graphic.   
> And damn, there sure are plenty of quests in ESO that trigger my imagination and inspiration. I gotta go write mooore! Wuld nah kest, my hands!
> 
> Oh, and  
> FUS RO DAH!
> 
> P.S.: Most Elder Scrolls player known Fus Ro Dah. n.n Wuld nah kest is the whirlwind sprint.

A warm wind streaked across the steppe in the north of Hammerfell. The evening was clear, barely a cloud obscuring the starlit sky.  
Lamae smiled as she watched the large, velvety expanse. It was beautiful. The Divine had created a truly magnificent realm for Men and Mer to live in.  
The priestess lowered her gaze to the shrine in front of which she stood. It was not a big shrine, and simple; yet not less worth for it. The symbol that looked like a stylized sun was the symbol of Arkay, god of death and rebirth. He was the god whom she served.   
With the smile still on her lips, Lamae knelt and began the evening prayer.  
"Great Arkay, I give praise, for without you, there is neither breath nor beginning, nor can any man live, love or learn without the spark of your spririt. Arkay, gentle father of rebirth, grant us your mercy and your blessing."  
For decades, her tribe had been under the protection of Arkay. Whenever they came through here, a priest or priestess would pray at this shrine to thank the god that they had made it back here safely. And sometimes, when Lamae prayed here, she almost felt the god's comforting presence.  
So deeply was she sunken in prayer, that it took the priestess a long while that some-thing had gotten terribly wrong. But something tore Lamae out of her deference. Her head jerked upwards.  
A shudder ran down her spine. When had it gotten so cold? That felt not right at all. And where were the sounds of the animals that were usually the background music of the steppe?  
Lamae jumped to her feet. Something was definitively wrong. She needed to get back to her people. Something vile was out there, she could feel it. They needed to leave this place, quickly.  
She was no more than a few dozen yards from the shrine, when suddenly, the stars went out.  
Lamae had barely time to process that, when she felt a massive and vile energy burst to life. She had never met one, but she knew that this could only be a Daedra. One of the malevolent creatures from the realm of Oblivion. But which one could it be? And why was it targeting her? The priestess wanted to run, but her feet were frozen to the ground, both from shock and some invisible force holding her back.  
She didn't have to wait long for the answers to her questions.  
Darkness gathered in front of her, growing more dense, forming into a shape. An almost human shape, on two legs, but at the same time not human at all.  
Then the figure stepped out of the shadows, giving Lamae a good view of it. She gasped, her heart actually skipping a few beats. She… she knew that figures from somewhere. And when she finally remembered, a wave of utter fear and desperation washed through her.  
Those animal-like feet. That toothy, skull-like grin. Those horns curving forward. Lamae had seen pictures of this creature in books before, praying she was never going to come face to face with it. And if anything, the massive, evil energy that enveloped her left no doubt whatsoever.  
Molag Bal. Daedric Prince of domination and corruption. King of Strive and Harvester of Souls. The father of Coldharbour. The very antithesis of Arkay.  
Lamae's knees actually gave and she sunk to the ground. In helpless terror, she stared up at the looming figure of Molag Bal.  
"Arkay have mercy…"  
The words came out in a mere whisper. Still, Molag Bal seemed to have understood them perfectly, for a deep laugh rumbled through the night. It dripped with so much malevo-lence, that another shiver ran down Lamae's spine. Never before had she been in a presence so through and through evil.  
"Your precious Arkay is not going to help you. Ah, how you puny mortals amuse me. Always clinging to beings stronger than yourselves and begging for help. Indees, you are so pathetic that it is already funny."  
Molag Bal's voice was unpleasant to the ear. But what truly got to her were his words.  
"You're lying", she replied feebly. "Arkay will save me, vile beast." Hearing her own words, Lamae actually managed to gain a little courage. "He will save his loyal servant and ban-ish you back on where you belong, to Oblivion!"  
Booming laughter echoed through the night. "That's what I love about you humans! Clinging to your gods, even when there is no hope! It makes crashing you all the more fun."  
The shadows began to swirl around Lamae, accompanied by a rising wind. The world around her blurred, except for the Daedric Prince.  
"What do you want?!", she screamed, any trace of courage vanishing in a split second. Now her mind was a jumble of fear. What indeed might a being like Molag Bal want from an insignificant priestess like her?  
Again, his laughter boomed through the air.  
"Oh, I just felt like messing with good old Arkay."  
The shadows and the wind settled. When the world returned into clear focus, Lamae saw that they were somewhere in a vast steppe – far away from any sign of civilization. She couldn't even tell whether this was the same steppe she had been travelling with her tribe.  
Another wave of utter terror washed through the priestess. It couldn't mean anything good if someone like Molag Bal took her to such a remote place. Not that anything could stop him, even if help were at hand… And why did the words "mess with good old Arkay" fill her with so much dread?  
"W-what do you mean b-by messing with Arkay?", she croaked, trying to get at least some answers. "Where are we? W-why are we here?"  
"Ah, I forgot. You mortals are so clueless that you ask questions all the time. Don't wor-ry… it shall all be clear to you soon."  
Molag Bal took a step towards her. Lamae, still on the ground, started to crawl away. Which was pure instinct. Futile, for certain. Even if she had been on her feet, the priest-ess of Arkay knew that she wouldn't have been able to escape the Daedric Prince.  
Promptly, shadows began to swirl around her again and lifted her into the air. As Molag Bal came closer, she began to struggle against her invisible bindings, despite the fruit-lessness of her effort. The Daedra also shrank the closer he came.  
Lamae had a really, really bad feeling about this.  
"Let me go!", she screamed at him. She struggled against the invisible bindings, to no avail. Her panic rose to new heights with each step Molag Bal took. Whatever his inten-tion was, she needed an impossible amount of luck to survive it. Because by the looks of it… she was as good as dead.  
"Arkay have mercy", she whimpered as the Daedra reached.  
"Hah. He better hear you and watch", the Harvester of Souls sneered. "I really want him to see this."  
What came next happened so fast that Lamae's mind couldn't even process it all at once. In a single instance, the robe she had been wearing was torn apart, the shreds hanging in the air for a moment before falling to the ground. Cool night air streaked across her now bare skin.  
"Wha-"  
Already Molag Bal leaned over her. His claws dug painfully into her arms where he grabbed her. A drop of blood fell to the ground. And in a moment of terrible clarity, Lamae realized what he was up to.  
"NO!", she shrieked and tried to break free again. "NO! PLEASE DON'T!"  
Molag Bal's laugh rumbled over her again.  
"But yes, my sweet Lamae. After all, I want a most exquisite spectacle for Arkay!"  
Claws streaked across her back and her legs as the Daedric Prince pulled her into an embrace and the mockery of a lover's gentle caress. The pain drove tears into the priest-ess's eyes. His skin felt so unbearably hard and rough, and this close, his malevolent aura robbed her breath.  
But the worst was yet to come.  
In a swift move, Molag Bal pressed apart her legs. And an instant later, such a sharp pain cut from between them through her entire body, that it felt as if she were being split apart in the middle.   
Lamae's world sank into a whirlpool of pain and claws. She screamed like she had never screamed before. All the while, Molag Bal's laughter rang in her ears as every push sent new agony through her and his claws tore into her flesh.   
And as the Daedra defiled her body in the most gruesome ways possible, dark tendrils pierced her mind. It seemed impossible, but her agony seemed to grow even larger than it already was. He ripped her mind apart as gleefully as he did her body. Memory by memory, thought by thought.   
Lamae didn't notice her voice giving out from all the screaming. She didn't notice the tears streaming down her face. Her mind was reduced to the basic instincts of an animal that sought only to escape the torture it was enduring.  
Her sense of time all but disappeared. How long she was in the clutches of Molag Bal, she couldn't tell. Her world only existed of pain. Eventually, somewhere among that ago-ny, she realized that the Daedra was actually killing her. There was simply no way she was going to survive this ordeal. However… by this point, she had simply no energy left in her to care.  
'So this… this is how it ends…'  
Molag Bal seemed to notice that she was done for. One final push, then he pulled out of her and tossed her away. He actually tossed her away! But Lamae barely felt the impact. Nor had she the strength to feel indignant.  
She was going to die. Drop by drop, she could feel her life flow out of her in a pool of red. But she didn't feel afraid of death. Why should she? Her torment at the hands of Molag Bal was over. And any moment now, Arkay would take her into his arms and grant her a peaceful sleep.  
The priestess managed to open her eyes one last time. But just barely. Through the slit, she observed Molag Bal looming over her, his laughter ringing through the night air.  
"It was fun", the Daedric Prince said. "Let me leave you a final parting gift for having entertained me so much."  
Lamae felt something drip onto her forehead. A thick liquid, almost like… blood? But why would Molag Bal do something like that? A final gift… was he still taunting her, even to the very end?  
But then, nothing mattered anymore. Darkness closed around here, and there was only sweet nothingness.


	2. Chapter 2

A warm wind streaked across Meredir and his horse as they made their way across the steppe. Several other riders had fanned out left and right of him. They were scouting the land ahead for their tribe, which was following them a good distance behind.   
The Nedic warrior was content. Times were not easy, but his tribe had been lucky. They had been able to travel along their nomadic routes in relative peace, only hav-ing to fend off the occasional group of outlaws and bandits. Their cattle and sheep were healthy.  
Life was hard, but good.  
Meredir had even finally gathered the courage to ask the lovely Asea for her hand. Well, Asea and her father, that is. And she had said yes. Meredir still couldn't be-lieve his luck. The date for the marriage was already settled as well. Ah, Asea… with her beautiful long hair, as black as a raven's feathers…  
Something in the grass in front of him tore the Nedic out of his romantic day-dreams. He squinted and looked again. There on the ground… was that a human lying in the grass?  
Meredir shouted, and immediately, the other riders came towards him. As they came closer, he dismounted and knelt next to his find. And it filled him with a nameless dread he had never experienced before.  
The warrior had seen some things in the span of his life. But nothing had been like the view that presented itself to him now. It was a woman. She was naked – and her body red, all but drenched in blood and shredded by claws. Never before had Meredir seen anyone mutilated like this. Her face was oddly peaceful, in contrast to the agony she must have gone through.  
"Divines have mercy…", he whispered in shock.  
The other riders had reached him now. They too looked shaken in various degrees when they laid eyes on the woman.  
"Who… who would do something like this?", one of them asked, sounding as if he were about to wretch.  
"More importantly", another put in, "who is this woman? Why is her body here of all places?"  
Meredir studied the woman closely. Forced himself to. Then again, she was so covered in blood that she almost didn't seem naked. Not that this helped against the view of the gashing wounds. The woman was Nedic like himself, that much he could tell, though he had no idea to which tribe she might belong.  
That was when he noticed it.  
Instantly, he had his fingers at the junction of her jaw and neck, at that certain spot below the ear. And there, barely noticeable, was a pulse.  
"She's still alive!", he exclaimed in surprise. Murmuring from his riders came in answer.  
Meredir rushed to his horse, took a blanket and wrapped the woman in it. Then he turned to Basek, his fastest rider despite being a boy barely grown into a man.  
"Go", he ordered him. "Take her to our healer. We might yet be able to save her. And tell the elders what happened. Us others will search the area."  
Basek nodded with a seriousness befitting the situation. Then he took the woman from Meredir and was off, his horse leaving a trail of dusk behind.  
Meredir stood and watched him go, a grim expression on his face. Then his warrior instincts kicked in. Who or whatever had done this might still be around some-where. And it was his duty to protect his tribe from it.  
"Look around for any clues, for any traces", he ordered the others. They immediately went to work.  
Meredir himself studied the place where the woman had been lying closely. Something was off. If this was the place where the woman had been assaulted… why were there no traces of a struggle of combat? The Nedic warrior doubted that she had let the assault happen to her without fighting for her life. Just like he doubted that she had been travelling without her tribe. So why did the grass look as if no foot had touched it? The incident didn't seem to be that old.  
"That's odd…", he murmured.  
In fact, as he kept looking, he didn't see footprints leading to or from this place, except for those of his own men. But how was that possible? The woman couldn't have flown here, right? Leave alone two people; there was still her assailant, too. And neither of them had left any footprints.  
The Nedic warrior didn't like that at all.  
"Meredir!"  
The shout caught his attention. One of the men stood a few feet away and pointed at the ground. Meredir headed over to him.  
"What have you found?"  
"Here. Pieces of clothing."  
Sure enough. There in the grass, strewn all about, rags of cloth were lying. Clearly clothing that had been ripped apart. Meredir bowed down, picked up one of the pieces and examined it. And when he recognized it, a sinking feeling of pity and gust settled deep in his chest.  
It was the remnant of a priestess's robe.  
Rage flickered to life inside him like a flame. "Who does something like this?", he growled with clenched fists. "Not just defiling a woman, but a priestess at that? Who on Nirn does something like this?"  
The others stood in awkward silence. For none of them knew the answer. And the crime had just turned worse than it already was. A priestess was more than a normal woman. Most of them had an air of innocence about them that stemmed from their closeness to the Divines. Only the most wicked and blackest of heard would dare defile one like this.  
As the men returned to their search, Meredir stared down at the rag in his hand.  
There was only one type of being that came to his mind which might be able of such dark deeds. However, it was not a possibility he enjoyed exploring.  
With a frustrated sigh, he pocketed the rag and joined the other scouts in the search.

By evenfall, they hadn't found anything. With a massive feeling of let-down, Mere-dir and his men returned to their tribe. They had set up camp unusually early, when the rider with the injured woman had reached them, to be exact.  
His first steps led him to the tent of Anaera, their healer. As expected, he found her inside, beside the bed, and keeping watch over the stranger.  
Anarea wasn't old, rather in the final part of her bloom. Yet, her work had already left its marks, having dug wrinkles into her face which shouldn't have been so deep.   
The priestess they had found did look better now, washed and bandaged.  
"Will she make it?", he asked Anarea.  
She looked up at him, a tired expression on her face. "I don't know."  
It wasn't the answer he had wanted to hear, but he nodded. He was glad for her honesty.  
"Then it's up to the Divines whether she makes it through or not", he said before exchanging a goodbye with the healer and leaving the tent.  
The moment he stepped outside, he saw a woman hurrying towards him. Despite the grim situation, his heart gave a little leap of joy when he recognized the raven-black hair.  
"Asea", he greeted his betrothed as she flew into his arms.  
"Meredir." The slender woman cupped his cheeks and studied him intently. "I heard what happened. Are you unhurt?"  
"I am fine", he assured her and gently kissed her on the forehead. "Fortunately. Which cannot be said of the victim, however."  
Asea shuddered. "Yes, I saw when I helped Anarea tending to her. By the Divines, what a monster must it have been."  
"Perhaps you're not that far off…", the warrior murmured. But he told her nothing of his suspicion. Mayhaps she had come to the same conclusion, but he would not frighten her any more than she was.  
"Tell your family to stay on high alert", he said nonetheless. "I don't have a good feeling about this."  
Asea nodded. "I will. I don't feel good about this either."  
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me… I have a report to deliver."  
"Don't overexert yourself, yes? I will bring you something to eat later."  
"Thank you, star of my eyes. I am looking forward to your delicious cooking."  
And with a tender, brief kiss, they bid each other goodbye.  
Meredir strode towards elder Karuna's tent. She was the one currently leading their tribe. And that had its reasons. Karuna was one of the wisest and most knowledgeable persons Meredir knew. At her age, she had seen and heard a lot. And while her eyes had paled, she wasn't blind; if anything, she seemed to see even more than before with remarkable sharpness.  
The eldest welcomed him into her tent kindly, even offering him tea. Meredir kindly accepted. It was a welcome refreshment after the exhausting search.  
The warrior gave her a detailed account of what had happened since they had found the nearly dead woman. Karuna listened patiently, not interrupting him once. But Meredir could see that she was thinking, and he was highly curious about her thoughts.  
After he finished, the old woman remained silent for a while. Drank her tea in al-most meditative sips. Stared into the fire that was merrily crackling in the center of the tent.  
Finally, she lifted her head and settled her pale eyes on him.  
"What do you make of this?", she asked him.  
Meredir felt pleasantly surprised that the tribe leader was asking for his opinion. Having had enough time to think, he had even an answer ready.  
"Well, I won't claim that I know who or what attacked that woman. But I know that it must have been a true monster, not matter what shape. It's such an inhumane deed…"  
Meredir's voice trailed off thoughtfully. In a flash of clarity, it dawned on him.  
"Inhumane", he repeated and looked at Karuna with interest. "You too think it was a Daedra?"  
He old woman nodded slowly. "Of course it's not like a human is beyond such a monstrous act. But acts like this many a Daedra's daily bread. It might even have been a Prince – only to spite Arkay."  
A sense of dread rolled over Meredir. He wasn't the biggest expert on Daedra, but he knew which Prince of Oblivion always opposed Arkay in all the stories.  
Molag Bal.   
Even for a Daedra, Bal was extraordinarily evil. Not for naught had he earned the titles he carried: The Defiler. Prince of domination and corruption. Indeed, it would not be beneath him to desecrate a priestess, especially one of Arkay. And even the mere thought of Molag Bal manifesting on Tamriel, not matter how briefly, sent a chill of anxiety down Meredir's spine.  
He clenched a fist.  
"But we cannot be sure."  
Karuna shook her head.  
"And we can't do anything to help her beyond what we already are doing."  
Again Karuna shook her head. A shadow of sadness flashed across her face.  
"I'm afraid not", she agreed. "All we can do now is to trust in Anaera's abilities and pray to the gods."  
Meredir lowered his head in silent resignation. Karuna was right of course. He and his men had done their part. Anaera had done her part. Now it was up to the Divines whether the woman lived or not. And he sincerely wished she was going to survive. After what had happened to her, the priestess deserved it. Her survival being a slap in the face of her assailant. As a warrior, he simply hated being so helpless when someone else needed help. With a heavy heart, he bid Karuna a good night and returned to his own tent. Soon after, Asea came to him and kept him si-lent, comforting company as he ate.  
Two weeks later, the priestess was dead.  
Meredir stood in Anaeras's tent and stared down at the figure lying in the bed. In the end, she had never recovered consciousness.  
The Nedic warrior wondered whether that might be a mercy. It had, after all, spared her a lot of pain and suffering. Still… as he watched Anaera pull the blan-ket over the head of the body, he clenched his fist in anger. He wished he could find whoever had done this and kill him. Unfortunately, this was impossible. His tribe needed him. Asea needed him. Until this day, they hadn't found the slightest clue to the culprit. And if it had truly been a Daedra, perhaps even Molag Bal himself, as he and Karuna suspected… well, it would be a suicide mission. If anything, he should be glad that his tribe was spared the horrors this woman had gone through.  
He turned away. He had to accept that he could do nothing at all. The woman was dead, and the perpetrator had gotten cleanly away.  
Karuna's voice cut through the silence that reigned in the tent. "Prepare a funeral pyre", she told the few people present in the tent. "We shall burn her and send her ashes to forever freely fly with the wind."  
A short, affirmative murmur. Then, Meredir followed the others outside to help building the pyre.  
By the time they were done, the afternoon had taken its course and the shadows had grown. All the tribespeople gathered to give the servant of Arkay a proper sendoff. Asea silently stood next to him and interlocked her fingers with his.  
Two men carried the dead woman to the pyre and carefully placed her on top of it. Karuna walked to the pyre and spoke a few words. Commended her soul to the god she had served, Arkay. Then one of the villagers, holding a torch, stepped forward and held the flame against the wood. The fire grew quickly, and soon it rose high towards the sky. A thick column of smoke shifted in the wind.  
Meredir stared at it with a dull grimness. He was used to the harshness of the world. However, it was never easy witnessing such brutality against the innocent.   
A hand on his shoulder made him look around. His eyes met Karuna's. The tribe eldest had a sympathetic expression on her face.  
"It's better this way. She didn't have to suffer anymore, and now she can rest in Arkay's embrace."  
"I know…"  
"You also know that one mustn't underestimate the Daedra." At his raised eyebrows, she added: "Yes. After thinking about it, I am more and more convinced that it was a Daedra. Burning her body is the best thing we can do. With the minions of Oblivion, one can never be sure enough."  
Fire was usually not the way the Nedic people sent their dead to the afterlife. But in this case, it was indeed the only prudent way.  
He sighed. "You're right as always, Karuna."  
The old woman truly cared about every single member of the tribe. Once more Meredir was more than glad that she led them. He already calmed again, after only a quick exchange with the blind woman. With a smile, he stared into the dancing fire.  
And with an ear-splitting scream, the corpse on the pyre rose to its feet.


	3. Chapter 3

Meredir was a warrior. And yet, as he watched the horrors unfold, he was frozen in place from terror. As was everyone else. For nobody had ever seen anything like this, not even the most battle-hardened among them.  
"That's what I feared", he heard Karuna say as he watched the supposedly dead woman bend over, as if she was in great pain. "So it truly had been the work of a Daedra."  
The Nedic warrior managed to regain his composure. He drew his sword. "Asea, take Karuna and get to safety. It's too dangerous here."  
"Are you sure?", his betrothed asked, fear swinging in her voice.  
"Yes. Now, please go. Go!"  
He wanted neither the tribe leader nor the woman of his life near this thing that had become of the priestess. Other villagers had already recovered from the shock and were turning to run and hide.  
Alas, it was too late.  
The creature that had once been a priestess of Arkay lifted its head. Then she vanished from the pyre. Meredir's heart skipped a beat. A moment later, screams rang through the air. A few villagers, five or six, collapsed. An where they had fallen, pools of red began to spread.  
That sent even the most hesitant men running.  
Meredir whirled around to the two women. "Go! Gogogo!" When they finally set into motion, he turned to the former priestess. "To me, men!", he roared to the other warriors over the tumult, trying to form some semblance of order and resistance. They had to stop the monster, at any cost.  
He saw some of them making their way to him, and others, closer to the creature, drew their blades, charging. However, they fell like all the others. The monster simply moved too fast for the eye to follow. Too fast for even the tribe's most skilled swordsmen. Meredir had to watch helplessly as one after the other fall in a gush of blood. Even when several attacked at the same time.  
He and the men with him now charged the monster. However, their swings all missed it. More warriors dropped dead, actually most of the men with Meredir. He tried to strike the creature as well, but his blade cut through empty air. As it rushed past him, he only felt a gust of wind.  
And then it sprang at the fleeing townsfolk.  
Children. Women. The elderly. Men, both warriors and non-warriors. They all fell one after another, without difference.  
And then, his world shattered as he saw first Karuna, then Asea dropping to the floor, lying motionless in pools of red. One moment, they had been running, fleeing the scene of the slaughter. The next, they fell like puppets whose strings were cut.  
"NOOOOO!"  
Both the wise leader of their tribe, and the love of his life. Their lives snuffed out in a single moment, like candle flames. His own life, the dreams he had for the fu-ture, destroyed. Something snapped within him. All rational thought and logic vanished from his mind. With anther, guttural roar he hadn't even known he could produce, he charged again at the monster.  
The thing that had once been a priestess of Arkay stopped for a moment and looked at him. Not afraid. Rather, it seemed curious, baffled. And in that moment in which it stood still, Meredir noticed how pale she was. In fact, her skin had a sickly, grey tone to it. And her cheeks were sunken in, giving her face a hollow, haunted look. And those eyes… they were wild. But they were also those of a tormented soul in great agony.  
His death came so sudden that he neither saw nor felt it coming.  
In one instance, the creature stood there, in the next, it was gone. And before his brain had time to register it, he saw red spraying into the air. A searing pain followed. The ground suddenly sprang towards him, crashing painfully into him.  
The monster that had once been a priestess stared down at him. And as Meredir's consciousness faded, a peculiar thought crossed his mind.  
That he had never even had learned his name. Nor what terrible thing had happened to her.  
An image of his beloved Asea with her long, raven hair rose to his mind. Regret flooded through him. Regret for the life they now couldn't have anymore. For the many, many shared, happy years they could have had.  
A tear ran down his cheek.  
And then… nothing.

Darkness. An endless void. As Lamae drifted through it, her mind moved at a slug's pace. Where was she? What had happened? Memories slipped through her grasp like sand. She was unable to hold them. Only bits and pieces of them flashed through her mind, not making sense at all.  
But… did it matter? It was peaceful here. Calm. If this was the afterlife, it didn't seem too bad, albeit a little lonely. She could actually be content.  
Suddenly, a storm of fire and pain burned away the tranquility and engulfed Lamae. Her eyes flew open and she screamed.  
Flames. Flames engulfed her and burned, burned. She was barely able to make a conscious thought. Her vision was tainted red, and through that vision, she saw figures. Many of them. Were they the ones who had set her on fire?  
They had to be. They were the only ones around.  
What was left of her rationality vanished in a burst of rage. And a great thirst came over her. One unlike any she had felt before. A thirst… for blood.  
Her body moved on its own. She had to kill, kill those who had meant her harm. Kill to quench that insatiable, burning thirst. With the tremendous power surging through her, the first people dropped within seconds. Lamae dug her fangs into her victims and drank. Ah, how sweetly the blood ran down her throat. The red of her world deepened. She needed more, more.  
Her enemies screamed and ran in fear. That was good. They ought to fear her wrath. Nobody was able to stand against her, not even those who came at her with weapons drawn. She killed them all, be they man, woman or child. She needed blood.  
Her slaughter was interrupted when a man charged at her, screaming wildly. He either was out of his mind with fear, or he was insanely, albeit foolishly, courageous. Lamae cocked her head to one side for a moment and watched this unusual man with interest. Then she moved. And blood sprayed.  
He was, after all, prey, like everyone else.  
How long this bloodbath had lasted, she later couldn't say. But from one moment to the next, the bloodlust left her, and her senses returned. She found herself in the middle of a small tent village, with no memory of what just had happened.  
Confused, Lamae looked around. Gripped her forehead as a wave of nausea washed through her. Her last clear memory was Molag Bal violating her, and the darkness afterwards.  
She… she had been dead. Lamae was sure of that. But… but then what was this? And where was she?  
That was when she saw the carnage around her, and her stomach twisted.  
"What in the name of Arkay…"  
What had happened here? The sight was too terrible; she saw men, women adn children of all ages, lying dead in pools of read. Who or what had done such a cruel thing? And… and why did she have a metallic taste in her mouth? The scent of blood rose to her nose, almost making her gag. Odd. Her nose seemed for reason to be sharper than it had been ever before. In fact, Lamae found that she also saw and heard much, much better than before. All her senses seemed heightened to several times their previous capabilities. Her head rang with the plentiful new im-pressions converging in on her. Her own body suddenly felt like a stranger to her, and she only adjusted very slowly to her heightened senses. Senses that told her that there was no living soul around anymore. Not a single one.  
That was when Lamae noticed the robes she wore. Robes that her people dressed the dead in. Robes… that were drenched in red blood. Just like her own hands were colored a deep crimson.  
Realization crashed onto Lamae like a tsunami, with devastating force. The priestess gasped and stumbled as it hit her.  
She really had been dead. Molag Bal had killed her. And somehow, he had resurrected and transformed her into a monster – a fitting act to spite Arkay. He had made her kill all these innocent people. An entire tribe, by the looks of it.  
And he had denied her the peace of Arkay's embrace. Perhaps for all eternity.  
Snippets of memory returned. A burning thirst. Warm blood running down her throat, quenching that thirst. Lamaes realized that she was going to have to con-tinue drinking blood to survive. How she knew that, though, she had no idea. Her knees gave in. Hunched over, she wrenched, her stomach unable to contain its contents any longer. Her eyes started to burn, tears streaming down her cheeks.  
It had truly been her killing these people? Oh Arkay, she hadn't even been able to kill an insect before. Taking a life had always appalled her. A shiver of disgust ran through her. And she had a feeling that even if she went to clean herself right now, she was probably not going to feel clean of the blood ever again. These people must have found her violated corpse and had wanted to give her a proper burial, which would explain the fire she could see in the distance and her clothes.  
When she finally could wretch no more, she lifted her eyes to the sky.  
"Arkay, my lord and master… please, help this servant in dire need. Molag Bal has defile done of yours, and now she doesn't know what to do."  
Her god just had to help her. Arkay despised anything undead, so if anyone could help her, it was him. Lamae didn't want to live on like this, a monster forced to feed on blood to survive. She couldn't go on with this massacre weighing on her conscience. However, he lacked the strength to lay hand onto herself; and after what she knew of Molag Bal, she doubted that she could die easily now.  
But no answer came.  
She couldn't even sense his comforting presence anymore, like she usually did when praying to him.  
"Arkay, gentle father… I beg of you…"  
Still nothing. Only deafening silence. Something inside her broke. She wailed like she had never before. A crushing sense of abandonment, loneliness and despair rushed through her. And for a moment, she thought she could hear Molag Bal's gleeful laughter ringing through the silence.  
"Arkay! Are you forsaking your loyal servant?! I have served you faithfully my entire life! I beg of you, lift this curse off your daughter! Help a loyal servant in need!"  
Again no answer. Lamae felt her throat grow tight. She was abandoned, by everyone and all. Even her own god had forsaken her now. There was nothing she had left, nowhere to go. Her very own people would regard her as a monster.  
She was alone. Utterly and truly alone.  
At that realization, she grew icy calm. It was as if a door in her heart, which had been open before, had closed shut. Cutting off the part of her that had been gentle and warm. Her desperation was replaced by something else.  
By a burning cold anger and hatred.  
Hatred towards Molag Bal, for what he had done to her. Hatred towards Arkay, for abandoning her despite none of this being her fault, despite her years of loyal service to him.  
"Curse the both of you!", she screamed her rage into the empty sky. "Curse you, Arkay, you who forsakes a loyal daughter! And curse you, Molag Bal, you monster among monsters! Foul beast from the deepest pits of Oblivion! I need neither of you!"  
So both Aedra and Daedra had abandoned her. At least Lamae knew that neither could be relied on. Shams, all of them. And none of them worthy of praise and adoration.  
Well. It appeared Molag Bal had given her some sort of power. Lamae was going to find out how it worked on her own.  
And with it, she was going to forge her own path in life.  
As the Mother of Blood.


End file.
